Nicole Beharie in Shame
She's
reticent, but the only character in this ode to wounded and damaged
souls who knows who she is. Beharie adeptly shows us the precise
moment Marianne bristles and decides she's out, but plays it with
authenticity and unfussy reserve. Bonus points for the date scene,
easily the best in the film.
Rose Byrne in Bridesmaids
In a sea of broad,
often serviceably dismounted comedy, Byrne has the most difficult
task, which incidentally looks like the least difficult task; playing
humor subtly, on character as the least showy part of a gifted
ensemble. An inspired, hilarious take on fermented, well-intentioned
bitchery. Bonus points for the bridal shop scene. Some of her best
bits and her character doesn't even have the benefit of the food-poisoning
comedy to play with.
Jessica Chastain in The Help
For doing the most
with the role that, of her slew of performances this year, arguably
asks the least of her.
On paper, Celia Foote could easily read as nothing more than “wall
to wall white carpet with gold trim” and a Big Dramatic Moment™ . Chastain elevates this character beyond the
vocal tics, mannered acting and scenery chewing that a lesser actor
may have employed. She has it all down—the walk, the timbre in the
voice, the facial expression. Bonus points for the conflicted “Thank
you for telling me?” and “I really need a maid,” two
of the best line-readings in the entire film.
Carey Mulligan in Shame
Not to sound
reductive, but Mulligan could not have chose a role like this soon
enough. Though a previous Pretentious Film Awards nominee (one I
stand by), I have to admit to being impressed by the formal, superbly
polished performative elements of much of her previous work while
still desiring more. As Sissy in Shame, Mulligan delivers one
of the best “Where did that
come from?” performances in recent memory, digging down deep and
conveying the longing, selfishness and pain of an emotionally
fragmented young woman with heartbreaking realism. Bonus Points for:
“New York, New York.” A fascinating scene of a character
unobtrusively, yet clearly collapse.
Sarah Paulson in Martha Marcy May
Marlene
A believable
sibling dynamic is one of the most difficult things to convey. Sarah
Paulson's Lucy conveys a certain exasperation and marmish exterior
that is part who she is and part who she becomes when she's around
Martha (Elizabeth Olsen). I love how her voice and her attitude
shifts perceptibly when she's talking to Martha versus when she's
talking to Ted (Hugh Dancy). In a film justifiably lauded (though
not enough) for its tremendous lead performance, Paulson is an
example of a truly supporting performance in every sense of the word.
Bonus points for “Can you get your feet off the counter?”
Nothing about the delivery begs for attention, but it's such a great
bit of character detail.
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